The wrap - Oxford United 0 Southend United 1

Marketing is a process of creating a gap between what we have and what we need. Sometimes that gap is obvious - there are things we need, such as food, which we sometimes don't have. Most time marketing tries to create a desire where there isn't one - for example, you may already have a functioning car, but after you've been bombarded by adverts, you might want a better one.

When you're a child, that gap is self evident. You don't have very much and little means to acquire things. Pretty much anything that exists presents an almost insurmountable gap between have and want. The excitement of Christmas is all about filling those gaps. As you get older, the gaps begin to close - you have more of what you want, but we compensate for the loss of that excitement, by inventing new things to want - feelings, status, experience, but it's never quite the same.

I've always loved Christmas and particularly Boxing Day football. It reminds me of early Christmases at my grandparents where we would go to The Manor as a treat. That memory opens others - the joy of a new football shirt - a luxury I couldn't hope to buy myself - or a Subbuteo accessory. I can buy those things now if I want to, but seeing kids with their brand new full Oxford kit worn proudly over the top of their clothes, makes me want to be seven again. The atmosphere is positive and homely as the cynicism of wizened regulars is compensated by the buoyant mood of family members and guests enjoying the novelty and taking in their first breath of fresh air in at least 24 hours.

Sadly, the reality of the game rarely lives up to expectations. The game against Southend probably summed up the reality of League 1 this season and our role in it. Southend represented a group of perhaps 15 or more well drilled sides - of which we are also one. They were organised and aware, happy to slow the game down, focussed on nullifying our threats, hoping that they might snatch something, which they did.

Karl Robinson's assessment was spot on; we don't have options up front to make an impact if Plan A doesn't work. Timothée Dieng in Southend's midfield marshalled James Henry out of the game, Marcus Browne was either tired, disinterested, off-form or injured depending on which Oxford supporting body language expert you listen to. As a result, Jamie Mackie was isolated and Gavin Whyte battled away gamely without much support or success. As teams begin to understand our threats that's what they'll focussed on; when you've got little to introduce from the bench, then the chances of outmanoeuvring your opponents are reduced considerably.

They didn't look a threat particularly, but neither did we. Our decent chance, from James Henry, went wide. Their decent chance went in. In most football games there are a range of 'fair results' a 1-0 win or 0-0 draw would both have been fair. But so was the 0-1 defeat.

The casuals, guests and family members won't really care about the result. They will probably draw some grand conclusions about the team or players - I once went with a friend on Boxing Day who thought Matt Robinson should be playing in the Premier League. We, on the other hand, must now move on. January is going to be an interesting month - players will probably leave, others will come in - we may start to see Wembley on the horizon in the trophy that shall not be named, we may even get an FA Cup run. If we're to get anything meaningful out of this season, January will probably define what that is.

The wrap - Southend United 0 Oxford United 0

The phrase 'get out of our club' or variations thereof have been bellowed at Karl Robinson more than once in the last week. It's a phrase that makes me increasingly uncomfortable.

The use of 'our' insinuates mob rule which aims to isolate its target. It says 'we' are in agreement that 'you' are not part of this and therefore have no say. I'm no fan of bullying, and this is the dictionary definition of that.

The second is the implication that Robinson should do the honourable thing and fall on his sword. He should 'get out'. This would be wholly to his detriment. Whatever you think about the club or Robinson, he has every right to try to fix the problems while the club are prepared to pay him to do that. He has a career to protect, and by extension, a family to support. People very rarely leave their job because of some unwritten moralistic standpoint; they keep working up until they find something better to do or someone tells them to leave.

Therefore, until he is told otherwise, he should be given the opportunity to fix the problems. Moreover, if he does fix them, then those successes should be recognised. A point at Southend does not solve the problems of the last few months, but it is a step in the right direction. For some, there was disappointment that it didn't fit their preconceived narrative of Robinson's failings.

Don't get me wrong; there's a lot to do. We've got to claw back five points just to get out of the relegation zone, fourteen to bother the play-offs; which is where success should lie if we're looking to make progress. In addition, there's a lot of trust to be won back.

I think relegation is more than avoidable, but the play-offs are a distant hope, and it's a longer stretch still to think that the fans will fully embrace Robinson. The implication for the club is that without that trust attendances are unlikely to grow. Even if we finish bottom this season, it will be our third highest finish in the last 20 years, but nobody is going to get excited by that.

I think the likelihood of getting near the play-offs are virtually zero. As a result, I think the club have to look at whether Robinson is the long term solution. I wouldn't argue against it if they decided he wasn't.

But, I don't believe he is an incompetent charlatan, nor a dishonourable man. I don't believe he doesn't feel it when things go wrong. I don't believe he shirks work. When people talk about him 'taking responsibility' for the issues, he frequently does, but when he tries to explain where he thinks those problems are, which inevitably talks about players not doing what they're supposed to, it's viewed as blaming others.

Some of the things he's done and said recently have been confusing, no doubt. But I think that's down to the stress of the situation. I don't think giving Shandon Baptiste the captain's armband is clever, or disowning the signing of Jamie Hanson. Perhaps in hindsight, he knows these things are wrong. He needs a clear head, and that is going to be increasingly difficult if this run of form continues.

Earlier in the season I said you'd have to take stock after twelve games. That's where we are at the moment. If Robinson were to be given the sack, then it would be difficult to argue a case against that. If not, then the we have to focus on the next 10 or so, rather than wait for him to get the bullet so we can all salivate over his execution, there's a lot of lost ground to make up. If Robinson does somehow muster the troops and start moving us forward, then he'll have my backing. 'Our' club's door should always be open to success.

The wrap - Oxford United 2 Southend United 0

Earlier in the season I described the current squad as a rebel alliance; a ramshackle band of brothers with a good heart, but one that was likely to take heavy losses. The Oxford machine, as much as it existed, was rocked by the losses of Michael Appleton, John Lundstram, Chris Maguire and Marvin Johnson, what it was replace by was no less worthy, just less reliable.

Ricardinho is likely to win player of the season, not so much because of his performances week in week out (he hasn't played week in week out), but because he's offered rare moments of joy. Those calling for him to play every week are forgetting the insane two-footed tackle which got him sent off against MK Dons, or worse, the times when his positional sense has been so wanting he's left us exposed at the back. He's not perfect, but it's not been a perfect season.

But, aside from joie de vivre, what Ricardinho has offered is the willingness to take a risk. His goal on Saturday was the perfect example of that. The highlights don't really show where he picked the ball up from, but the coaching manual doesn't say that you should abandon your defensive duties to go on a potentially suicidal attack when you pick the ball up on the edge of your own box. Nobody would have complained had he played the ball inside for it to be worked into midfield, but that's what Southend were expecting. He did the same against Oldham, which didn't end with a goal but did, at least, animate the crowd.

James Henry similarly has these moments; whether that's delaying a run into the box or driving through the defence like he did on Saturday. Henry's limitation this season seems to have been what he's been played in the wrong position, whether that's by design or necessity, who know? Karl Robinson does seem to have found a system which allows him to be effective.

We have been lacking unpredictability which, coupled with a solid defensive unit, makes the difference between a good and bad team.

The frustrating, and scary thing about the win on Saturday is that everyone around us won, meaning we remain 5 points ahead of the drop-zone. But, it did pull Walsall into trouble, meaning we now needs three out of six teams below us to pass the 50 points mark. Not quite there yet, but very very close.  

The wrap - Southend United 1 Oxford United 1

Before Saturday’s game, Phil Brown jibed that we are a team that ‘passes for the sake of passing’. In a sense it’s not surprising coming from someone like him; if Napoleon was right in describing the English as a nation of shopkeepers, then Phil Brown’s lording over Southend is the football equivalent of owning a newsagents and thinking you’re about to challenge Tesco for High Street supremacy.

The denigration of passing is a very English disease. It was invited by the Scots in the early 20th Century as a far more effective way of moving the ball around and scoring goals than hacking and barging. The English, slow to adopt anything they didn’t invent themselves, thought it was effete to pass and much more manly and proper to be physical. Even in the 1980s whole FA coaching policy was formed to avoid passing as much as possible and instead promote route one physicality. The 1966 aberration aside, this is pretty much the point how English football was left behind and became a game the English love, but can’t play.

The likes of Brown sustain this prejudice through comments like the one he made against us. Even Radio Oxford were affected by stressing every time a ball moved from one player to another in that exacerbated way people do when trying to find an appropriate level of indignation to a self-evident, there for all to see fascist Donald Trump tweet. The Brexit-style assumption all foreigners are stupid while persistently failing to outperform them is a very English way of doing things. We should resist it at all costs.

Brown may have some bragging rights over us for this particular fixture, but he conveniently ignored that the passing for passing sake had resulted in 12 more goals than his team could muster and two more points.

Southend wrap - Oxford United 0 Southend United 2

The closest I came to playing professional football was being left-back cover for a bloke at school who had trials for Watford. I found out that his professional career was over when Oxford played Watford on the last day of the 1993 season where it was announced in the programme he’d been released.

In the main, even the best player you’ll ever play with will get nowhere near a professional contract. Even to get on the bottom rung of any professional football ladder you have to be spectacularly competent.

Phil Brown is a relentlessly, tediously competent manager. It’s easy to complain about his narcissism, his tan and his histrionics, but his teams are so mercilessly organised they strangle points out of games. He is one of those managers, like Steve Evans, Graham Westley and Chris Wilder, that will never get much credit, but will never be out of a job. It’s not so much that Michael Appleton is found wanting against this kind of manager, it’s more that you feel there are bits of his craft he still has to hone before he’ll start getting the better of them more often than not.

Part of that is the way he manages the squad – getting the right balance of fresh talent and experience, rotating enough for freshness, but not too much to create instability. Facing two games in 72 hours against teams with similar philosophies, we were finally brought to ground by a couple of well-timed sucker punches. Breaking down a highly organised team like Southend, and MK Dons before that, is asking a lot physically. In the first half we played some scintillating football which, perhaps, with slightly fresher legs we’d have scored from, but in the end we ran out of steam as the Southend diesel chugged its way through our defence.

Facing these teams between now and the end of the season is probably what will ultimately scupper any lingering hopes of play-offs. We have plenty of teams still to play who will adopt similar approaches and while we have become increasingly competitive at this level, it seems unlikely we’ll squeeze enough points out of them to close the gap to sixth. In some ways, I’m not sure that’s a bad thing – an accidental promotion will put all sorts of pressures on the club and squad, we’re getting closer, but I’m not sure we’re ready yet.

Weekly wrap - Oxford United 1 Charlton Athletic 1, Southend United 2 Oxford United 1

Manchester is a curious place. As a result of its rebuilding following the bombing in 1996, the centre is typical of a modern, prosperous city full of cafes and bars and high end shops.

But, drive a short distance in any direction it appears to be surrounded by a ring of depravation. The roads become rutted, the houses look run down, there are shops clinging to dear life and people wandering around who look desperate. Less claustrophobic than London, you can see the stratification; the centre, the depravation, then places like Media City, Old Trafford, the Etihad and the Trafford Centre punctuating the skyline. Suddenly, you’re in the countryside and we’re back into prosperity again. As a result, it is very difficult to work out whether Manchester is thriving, struggling or whether it simply has a unique culture all of its own.

League 1 is much the same, last week we were at MK Dons, on Saturday it was Charlton, next is Bolton Wanderers. All teams with large stadiums and fans, and in the case of Charlton and Bolton, bigger reputations. But all three are on a downward trajectory.

And yet, League 1 remains ‘lower leagues’ like a big team graveyard. Next month we play Coventry, 1987 FA Cup winners playing in a stadium with over 32,500 seats, but they haven’t finished in the top six of any division for 46 years. It looks very likely they will be playing League 2 football next year; a big team with an abject history; very League 1.

In such a situation it is difficult to know quite where we fit. Before the game against Charlton, radio played a clip of the last time we beat them fourteen years ago. Jefferson Louis scored the decisive penalty in a League Cup shoot-out. Jerome Sale makes a comment about Louis having been in prison and earning £90 a week. Charlton, at the time, were the envy of most teams; successful, but grounded. The difference between us and them was obvious, now less so.

On Saturday we were pretty evenly matched. Their penalty looked far less controversial than the radio seemed to imply afterwards. The impact of Kane Hemmings was encouraging given that he has looked under-powered this season. I’m not sure, however, if people appreciate the role that Ryan Taylor made in softening up their defence to allow the game to open up a bit more when he went off. As usual, the phone-in simplified the issue – Hemmings should play in place of Taylor because he looked a goal threat and Taylor didn’t. It’s not a wholly unfair point, but I think Hemmings is a threat, in part, because Taylor did a lot of groundwork for him.

Tuesday, and Southend, came very suddenly and Edwards got grabby again. He must be a nightmare on a packed dancefloor – all hands. People have started talking about Southend being a bogey team and a curse, which is, of course, completely irrational. The main issue is that if you begin to believe it, then the likely response is not to re-focus and go again, but to believe that there is some sort of higher power at work and give up.

It all comes back to mind set – League 1, like Manchester, is probably best not compared to other places, but simply that it is a netherworld in itself. We will face a whole range of teams; big ones heading downwards, small ones heading up and others simply stuck in the division’s orbit. It is what it is, and we are what we are, the more we become comfortable with that idea, the more successful we’re likely to be.

Teetering?

There was a moment on Saturday when Andy Whing received an simple ball, he mis-controlled and, over-reaching, stabbed it back along the back-four. There was an audibly sharp intake of breath - not for the first time this season - as the back line and Ryan Clarke moved the ball between them as if trying to get rid of a lump of a steaming poo.

It was 2-2 at the time and, fleetingly, I wanted us to concede. Or at least I was curious to see what would happen if we did. I’m not one of those who wants to see us lose in order for the manager to be fired, despite what people seem to think, but there was a moment where I wanted to do a laboratory test, away from the real world, which would establish how the club might respond.

And then we did concede; we’d lost two leads, at home, playing a team playing with 10 men for an hour, it could barely have been worse. Had we won, we could have debated whether the 10 men was a factor, had we drawn, we could have debated how difficult it is to play against 10 men, had we lost against 11 men, we could have debated the relative merits of our opponents. But this was beyond debate, we'd lost. Badly.

So, how do the club handle it? Will we get the relentless positive parping from Eales and Ashton? The steely look in the eye and the challenge to ‘judge us on our actions’. How do they defend it? Outwardly they will support Appleton, the media seem to think he's as safe as houses. This might have been a transitional year, but they surely can't have planned it like this.

There can only be two scenarios where this might not matter; the first is if they don’t care, the second is if they have unstinting belief in The Philosophy.

Let's deal with the first bit; the land deal thesis – the idea that their investment in the club is simply a cover for some massive land deal; either at the Kassam or at Water Eaton; an opportunity to capitalise on the city’s housing crisis, for example.

While its feasible, I don’t believe that this is their sole focus. I’m fairly certain that it’s part of a wider investment plan but every owner from Robert Maxwell onwards has recognised how important stadium ownership is to the club’s future. But they're trying way too hard off the pitch for them to be coldly killing the club off a la Kassam (although I don't think even he planned that initially).

So, what about The Philosophy. Do they have the money to invest unquestionably in The Philosophy, the Plan A and the DNA and all that gubbins?  There's not a lot of evidence that they have a bottomless pit of cash; after all they're not investing heavily at the moment? People talk about signing players in the transfer window, but they ignore that we signed four before it even opened, and they're not exactly looking like world beaters.

So, there has to be some limits; a point at which the situation becomes intolerable. I can’t believe they are looking at this and thinking it’s OK, because if they don't improve things soon, it's going to get a whole lot worse.

The thing is, it's not the fans they need to worry about, it’s the customers. We, the fans, will turn up pretty much whatever gets served up, customers - the casuals who only turn up if they’re going to be entertained - will make the difference. We may detest them, but they are the difference between a crowd of 4,000 and a crowd of 9,000, plus they pay more per head. They are much more discerning and selective than us. Turn them off and the club is really in trouble and for Ashton and Eales, things will get much, much more expensive. Even if they give up on the team, they've still got to pay the rent, at least Kassam could give up and not fear that.

How do they, with any credibility, defend their credibility when The Philosophy, which they've talked about with such confidence, disintegrates on first contact with the outside world? Do they smile it out or take action? If they're teetering now, Saturday's game against Exeter could be decisive.

Are football fans a bunch of dumb asses?

There’s a tweet that’s been bugging me ever since it was posted just after the transfer window closed and we’d failed to sign Tyrone Barnett. It basically said that the club should be applauded for being willing to spend money on players and also to be applauded for not being held to ransom by a player’s wage demands.

Now, in reality, it seems that the problem with the Barnett deal was between the player and his agent, but it seems that this one Oxford fan was wholly satisfied with the failure of the bid. In fact, he viewed it as some kind of success.

This is one of the themes of this season so far; it has been a terrible, terrible start - disastrous form and we're still three or four players short of a competitive squad. We are the second worst team in the entire football league and by next Saturday afternoon, it is conceivable that we will be the worst. And yet, not only are Oxford fans apparently satisfied by our parlous state and optimistic about our future, they are prepared to find ‘evidence’ from even the most incongruous sources to prove that fact. In addition, there are others re-writing our recent history; claiming that this is better than life under Chris Wilder (currently 7th with Northampton).

Now, I’m not going to bang on about winning at Wembley or the three wins over Swindon, I’m not going to talk about the nurturing of James Constable into not only a genuine goalscorer but a modern day club icon and talisman. I’m not going to talk about Peter Leven’s goal against Port Vale, or the semi-final play-offs against Rushden or Jamie Cook goal against Luton.

I’m not going to talk about any of those things, I’m not going to talk about half a decade which we will look back on as a golden age. I’m not even going to talk about the mean-spiritedness of that revisionism. Instead, I’m going to ask a simple question; are football fans just a bunch of dumb asses?

I sometimes see spats on Twitter between fans - obviously in our case it’s usually with Swindon fans. Insults are traded; but, I do often wonder if anyone is genuinely serious about this. I mean, does anyone genuinely believe that all Swindon fans are scumbags or that arguing over who is best will actually ever be resolved?

Do those who one week, after a defeat, call for the kneecapping of the manager and then the next, after a win, claim him to be a genius, recognise the idiocy of their inconsistency?

I enjoy the rivalry, I enjoy the pantomime, even when it’s vicious and foul mouthed, but I also know it’s fiction. It requires a suspension of belief in order for it to work. I had assumed others see it as well, but perhaps they don’t, perhaps they genuinely feel it is real. The problem is that we’re all so busy playing along, and we’re too afraid to ask anyone if they genuinely believe it in case they do and you’re exposed as being one of the uncommitted.

But, you have to be a simpleton to genuinely confuse the fiction of football rivalry and the reality of the reductivism of it all. I don’t know how many people do fall for it, but some clearly do.

Rivalries are probably the least of our worries right now, we seem to be plumbing new depths of idiocy when it comes to our current form and predicament. I wholly get the idea of going to a game regardless of your form because that’s kind of the point. But, the acceptance of our current state completely baffles me. We have scratched two draws in six, and yet, that is deemed to be acceptable. Apparently we’ll be rewarded for sticking to higher principles of playing attractive football, but with what? A win? Avoiding relegation? Mid-table safety? Do people genuinely believe that our form or even our play indicate that we’ll match or improve on last year? When was a home draw with Dagenham, as entertaining as that might have been, considered the height of any club’s, let alone our, ambition?

I’m assuming that we all secretly know that our form this season has been catastrophic, and that should it continue in this vein then that could do irreversible damage to the club. The casual observer who makes the real difference between our future success and failure - because they attend when we succeed and don't when we fail - are simply not fooled by the idea that we are, in fact, succeeding. I’m hoping we know this and we’re all putting on a brave face. But what I’m thinking is that we’re all so dumb that this is genuine acceptance, or genuine belief, that some magical spirit is about to step in and fly us to the stars.

Suspending reality is at the heart of any entertainment, you have to give yourself over to the format whether that be film or theatre or sport - which is basically theatre without a script. But, if you suspend your reality completely, then there is always someone ready to exploit that. Football rivalries get hijacked by the politicised far right, for example. My fear is that we have handed ourself wholly over to rhetoric and we’ve ignored the reality of our situation. There is a very real possibility that by the time we wake up to that it will be too late.

Perhaps there is a commitment to entertaining football under the new regime, and perhaps there’s more money to invest in the club. Perhaps the stadium issue is moving forward at pace. But, if we wholly believe those promises and passively hand ourselves over the new regime - without an ounce of scepticism or pressure - then we are truly as dumb as we look. They should be buying our trust and respect with their performances, currently, they’ve built no capital in that respect and yet a draw at home to Dagenham or away to Southend is considered to be a major success and somehow proof that this is an improvement on the previous regime.

Shooting sacred cows

Gary Waddock put on a brave face in front of the television cameras as we were annihilated by Southend on Monday night. Deep inside he must have been wondering what he's inherited, and more importantly; where does he go next?

It's pretty easy to get carried away by any defeat; especially one that's been magnified through the medium of TV. It's easy to think that the world spent all day thinking about the game and how it might pan out when in reality many will probably have been unaware it was even on.

However, it's fair to say that if the Southend defeat confirmed anything at all, it's that if we do get promoted this season, it is most likely be down to the collective incompetence of the division rather than the brilliance of our play. 

So, while the season remains, astonishingly, all for the taking, it leaves you wondering what misery might be waiting for us in League 1 next season if we do make it.

A quick look at the current League 1 table suggests to me that the highest we might hope to finish should we get there is around 19th or 20th. Teams above that position just look too good for us to be able to trouble.

It seems pretty clear that changes will be needed regardless of where we are next season. With endless talk of 'new eras' under Gary Waddock (I think we'll let history decide whether his reign might be considered an 'era'), it may be time to think the unthinkable and shoot some of the sacred cows of the squad.

I'm not suggesting that there should be a arbitrary cull, but those you might think of as permanent fixtures, shouldn't be above scrutiny.

Mickey Lewis and Andy Melville

Call it the power of TV, but shots of Waddock hunched behind hoardings in the away dugout flanked by Mickey Lewis and Andy Melville looked like the three 'see no evil' wise-monkeys. Waddock, we shouldn't judge (although many did), but his new face did make Lewis and Melville's presence seem a little odd. Like trying to explain to a new girlfriend why your settee make a noise like a loud fart when you sit on it, it was almost as if Lewis and Melville were apologetically explaining to Waddock the failings of squad. It was like when you decorate a room in a house and all the other rooms suddenly look tired and in need of a refresh. Will Lewis and Melville add value to the new set up? It didn't seem as though they learned much from Chris Wilder, which might suggest their key benefit was in carrying out instructions of the man in charge. Perhaps that's a good thing, everyone needs able foot soldiers, but it would be nice to think we weren't reliant wholly on Waddock for ideas and insight.

James Constable

Constable is an interesting one, he's approaching the goalscoring record and he's a bona fide club legend. To get rid of him would be a massive risk to Waddock's credibility. Despite his goalscoring record, he missed two excellent chances against Southend and scores only fitfully now he's in League 2. Waddock may also view him as a relic of the past, and that moving him on would be symbolic of any change he might want to instigate. However, as is often the case, Constable was a rare positive with his work rate and commitment compensating for any failings in front of goal. My view is that Constable is worth keeping, but he needs pace and goalscoring ability to play off. I've no doubt he is willing to play any role, but his position as a key source of goals - and with it his right to a shirt - has to be under threat.

Jake Wright

There were times last season when Jake Wright was almost Bobby Moore-like in his command of the defensive arts. He didn't put a foot wrong all season. This season injuries have taken their toll along with the change of management. It's easily forgotten but Jake Wright, along with Constable and Ryan Clarke were lolling around in reserves teams or the non-league before Chris Wilder turned them into exemplary professionals. Wright has looked much shakier this season, perhaps a consequence of playing alongside so many different players, but it may be that injuries are getting the better of him, or the discipline Wilder instilled in him is on the wane. Can we afford to find out whether he'll shake off his current shakiness? Waddock may decide that Wright is, in fact, wrong.

Ryan Clarke

Only Sky's convention of awarding man of the match to someone from the winning team prevented Ryan Clarke from taking the accolade. Given that he also conceded 3, and he gave away an unnecessary penalty, that's a damning indictment of those who were playing in front of him. Waddock cannot have failed to be impressed by Clarke's performance; a minor bright spot in a bleak evening. Regardless of Max Crocombe's potential, it would be hard to see why Clarke's position would come under any threat.

Alfie Potter
Oh Alfie, when do you become the complete product you've always threatened to be? Potter enjoys a lot of protection due to his goal at Wembley and his ever present 'promise', but there is a point when promise needs to be converted into something more productive. On a good pitch and given plenty of space, Potter will excel, but in the rutted envrions of Southend and the like he tends to bimble along around midfield without much end product. How much time do you give him? When should we expect him to put in a season (or even half a season) of game changing wing-play? It pains me massively to say it, but of all the sacred cows, Potter could easily be the first to go.

Conquering the (Peter) Fear

Saturday's 2-0 defeat to Southend had something strange about it. As if there was something else out controlling our fate. We seem to be a troubled soul, haunted even.

In what appears to be a growing theme for the season, my normal routine was disrupted again on Saturday. This time, however, it was in a wholly welcomed way as Brinyhoof joined me in the South Stand. You may need to humour me when I talk about regular readers; but those who have a passing interest in this blog may remember that his last game was the abject 0-0 draw with York last year.

Although there were concerns about our home form, things are generally going well so I was pretty confident that whatever happened Southend couldn’t be much worse than that game against York.

I'll pause a moment for dramatic and ironic effect.

As James Constable appeared from the bench just after half-time with us 0-2 down, we were debating who would be sacrificed. We simply didn’t know; top scorer Dean Smalley? Crucial link man Dave Kitson? Neither seemed obvious choices and anyone else would disrupt the shape of the team.

When you look around the starting eleven from Saturday it’s difficult to know who to blame for our poor home form. Who is our Matt Murphy? Raynes and Hall have their detractors, but they have their supporters too and they're clearly filling for the absent ‘first on the team sheet-ers’ of Whing and Wright. Hunt and Newey take a bit of getting used to after a couple of years of Liam Davies and Damian Batt’s marauding down the wings, but it’s difficult ever to lay blame for a team’s performance solely on your full-backs.

How are we performing so badly with a team that in general we seem to like? This was what we were wrestling with. And, I thought to myself privately, how are we not winning when we’ve got 40 players on the pitch?

Now, Brinyhoof has spent a good proportion of his time on the leftfield of life. He’s so indie he confessed to once owning a season ticket for the upper terrace of the uncovered section of the Beech Road. This is the season ticket equivalent of only listening to b-sides by ex-members of The Fall because Mark E Smith is a ‘bit poppy’. From his time spent on the margins, someone bowling around under the influence of the odd hallucinogen is unlikely to phase him.

That said, I knew something wasn’t right; how could I see 40 Oxford players and why are they so familiar? My drug of choice at lunch time was hummus and pitta bread. Eventually one of the players wheezed past our vantage point, he was floating just above the ground and he was slightly translucent. It was Peter Fear and these people… were ghosts.

While we talk of our successes in reverential tones, our history is festooned with failure. We are so consumed by it we cannot see just how much it envelopes us. Steve Anthrobus, Kristaps Grebis, Marvin Robinson, Ben Abbey, Gary Twigg. Plus countless others we’ve otherwise forgotten. These are the ghosts of our past, their abject performances year-on-year influences our behaviour as fans and that influences our form.

When the first goal went in on Saturday, there was a noticeable lull in the atmosphere; we’d been here before, a goal down, typically, this scenario ends in defeat. We have learned to turn our minds  to other things; for example when the next goal would be conceded, whether to go for a pee at half-time and whether to deviate from our standard chicken jalfrezi and X-Factor combo on Saturday night. Increasingly, I’m finding that one of the most appealing things about going to a game is the prospect of getting home. Do I now only go to home games because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to come home from them?

The prospect of a stirring fight back is not even remotely on our radar anymore. We have no recent history of fighting back, no reference point; in the mid-eighties there were a number of stirring fightbacks – 5-2 against Leeds, 4-4 against Chelsea, 4-3 against Ipswich. When opponents came to the Manor even if they were indignant enough to take the lead, we’d come back at them like an angry dog. Sometimes we won, sometimes we lost, but the London Road was always up for the challenge.

But, we’ve been losing like this for more than 10 years and not fighting back has become our accepted behaviour; as players and as fans. We look forward to a game expectant of a win, we concede, we lose, we go home. There’s always next week. We’re like a dysfunctional family; we continue our routines, staying together out of a sense of expectation. Although we're not entirely happy, we tolerate the behaviours of our clan without meaningful challenge.

There was some discussion after the game not about how to solve the problem, but what the problem is in the first place. The challenge is trying to unpick the intricate interactions of this family to sort out its problems. Is there any point? It’ll take too long and we’ll probably never get to the bottom of the issue anyway.

Meanwhile in Manchester, Wigan Warriors were winning the Super League Trophy; the next day Simon Lenagan tweeted the match report from the Independent which outlined Wigan’s focus on developing a local squad by investing heavily in its development. We're not trying to solve the current problem, we're going to the desired end point and then working out a way to get there. Which is a reminder that the eleven players that started against Southend aren’t the Oxford United of Ian Lenagan’s new vision, the future is the development squad. Regardless of what happens this season, we're still in transition.

One of the interesting things, however, is whether we have the same vision for the crowd; there is a general acceptance of failure; on the radio after the game 'Selfy' interviewed someone who said how rubbish it all was – will you be coming to Portsmouth? he asked ‘yes’, Northampton? ‘yes’ Accrington? ‘yes’.

There was an overwhelming sense that attending a game, feeding that routine, is now just enough. Winning and succeeding is such a distant prospect that there’s really no point in being impatient for it. Perhaps the team will change, but will the fans?

A tribute to Paolo DiCanio

While we seem to be steering into choppy and unchartered waters with poor finances, questionable PR decisions and variable form. Down the A420 things are similarly, and as always, more spectacularly in flux. Demanding to be centre of attention, once again, is Paolo Di Canio. If he does leave, perhaps he should be remembered fondly in Oxford as well as in Swindon.

It's not been a great week; Ian Lenegan admitted that discussions hadn't started on new contracts, we're set to have a £450,000 defecit this year, Bridle are to end their sponsorship, the whole Luke McCormick thing, and then, fittingly, the defeat to Southend after dominating.

Down the A420 things haven't been great either; the club have sold their prize asset, they're set to have a new owner with less than sparkling credentials. If there is a tonne of money in that deal, then why sell your best player? And now, Paolo Di Canio is imploding.

It feels like we're at the end of something. A golden period for the Oxford Swindon rivalry. At our end, it's not necessarily Ian Lenagan or Chris Wilder's fault. The economy continues to bumble along and the government's austerity measures are digging in. Companies that have been steered through the recession are beginning to feel the pain. The middle classes are feeling the bite. It's not quite that they're  starving to death, there's still enough money to buy quinoa, but for the casual football fan the decision whether to go to games; based on the weather, the need to get that rubbish down to the tip and the price; is becoming a little less compelling by the week. 

The period started at Wembley in 2010. If we're talking about moments, perhaps it was when Isaiah Rankin skewed his shot wide at 2-1 when he should have tied the game up and broken our spirit. For them, it's that little bobble in front of Charlie Austin as he bore down on goal in Swindon's play-off final against Millwall. At that point, we were on a collision course.

The immovable object finally hit the irresistible force a year later, and everything that followed pivoted around two people. For us, it was James Constable, and I've done plenty on him and will, no doubt, do plenty more in the future. For them, it was Paolo. And, I have to confess something, I think he's great.

Di Canio lifted the rivalry up from the norm; he's the lightening rod for more intense media attention. And, he's a fascist; how brilliant is that? A real, proper, ideologically evil nut job. He lit the bonfire by bidding for James Constable on two occasions. Constable resisted like Luke Skywalker repelling Darth Vader. It was a titanic struggle. When we beat them, first at the County Ground, and then at the Kassam with 10 men we defeated evil. It was perfect. The rivalry burned long and bright; they were more successful in the main, but we won the head to heads. The argument as to who was better was gloriously unresolvable.

But Di Canio is more than just a pantomime villain. Not only do I think he's proved himself as a manager, but I like the way he runs his club. I saw both of our home wins, and although our performances were heroic, they were an excellent team playing attractive football. You can easily, and reasonably, argue that the success was fuelled by money they didn't have, but Di Canio; although fortunate to have been given the funds, used them well. The ability to turn raw funding into a successful squad is not a just job is a skill that is often overlooked.

There's more; he was hyperbolic - Constable being a Swindon fan; having an on-pitch punch-up with Leon Clarke, substituting his goalkeeper after 21 minutes, declaring that there should be a plaque put up in tribute to their win over Wigan, and claiming our rivalry was one of the most intense he knew. When he started he was a guest at the Swindon half marathon, taking a wrong turn during his ceremonial run, he ran the whole thing. More recently, he was helping clear their pitch when it snowed; buying all those who helped pizza as thanks. Fans love people with commitment, and here was someone whose commitment was almost maniacal.

Di Canio's uncompromising ideology was always going to be his downfall. When he arrived, most predicted that it was collapse in high farce, although I don't think I was alone in thinking that it would probably happen in a matter of weeks, not years. The lower leagues are characterised by boom and bust, and Di Canio is similarly volatile. Eventually two would combust. That moment seems to have come.

We move on into a new era. Not necessarily better, not necessarily worse, just different. Of the two clubs, I suspect our future is fractionally more secure. We've demonstrated classic English conservatism throughout. For all Ian Lenagan's failings; he steers a very steady course for the club, too steady for some. I doubt, however, that our future is going to see a meteoric rise up the divisions. They are faced with clawing back the excesses of the last few years with an owner who has been ploughing his millions into, um, Banbury United; currently lying 12th in the Evo Stik Southern Premier Division.

The way that Di Canio is carving out his exit, as the passionate leader being ousted by the very people he saved, he will no doubt always be remembered for putting together a great team and going on a great adventure. As an Oxford fan, I'd like to thank him too.

Is he the saviour or just another very naughty boy?

Tuesday's defeat to Southend in the Johnstone's Paint Trophy saw the end of a surprisngly glorious run in a particularly inglorious competition. Where one thing ends, another starts as Tyrone Marsh marked his much anticipated debut with a goal and a pretty good shift. The start of something beautiful? Perhaps.  

When I was growing up, based on very limited information available to me, I assumed that certain things were given. I assumed that all teams were on a trajectory that would eventually lead them to glory in a Wembley final. I had three reference points for this; I supported Ipswich Town when Bobby Robson took them to the FA Cup and UEFA Cup, I supported Oxford United as Jim Smith took them to the top flight before handing the reigns to Maurice Evans and onto Wembley, and I read about Roy Race and Melchester Rovers, and their relentless pursuit of glory.

I also believed that every team had a star striker; Roy Race, Paul Mariner, John Aldridge, Dean Saunders. And I believed that every team had a homegrown hero.

First, there was Andy Thomas and Kevin Brock, then Joey Beauchamp, Chris Allen, Paul Powell, Chris Hackett, Sam Ricketts, Dean Whitehead; a procession of homegrown success stories spanning a couple of decades. But there was a barely perceptible trend; whilst not wholly linear, each batch of homegrown stars was slightly less able than the previous set. For every Joey Beauchamp, there was an increasing number of Mark Druce's. As you get older, there's the horrible moment you begin to realise that the conveyor belt of homegrown success is beginning to pump out a load of poop.

You begin to realise, these players are like fattening cattle, they're really only being prepared for sale. But in a sense, that was OK because selling on players you've seen grow up has its own satisfaction. Especially when they're being fattened at somewhere like Oxford, because its not so galling to see them disappear off to the top flight. Slowly, though, they're not being picked up by top flight teams, but by teams at the same level as you, then teams lower than you, then local park teams.

There were people like Simon Weatherstone, who scored a hat-trick in the reserves against Arsenal, and Simon Marsh whose solid performances lead him to England Under-21 status and pretty much anyone Mike Ford decided to play when he was caretaker manager. As we entered the Conference, there were people like James Clarke and Alex Fisher. And Aaron Woodley, who for at least one Radio Oxford preview show was being rushed into first team action in order to boost his transfer price.

We love home grown stars; they are us. Fitter, faster, better looking, more skilful versions of ourselves. But most importantly, they live near us. OK, so they might actually be the sort of people in low cut t-shirts, earrings, Ugg boots and sculptured hair that you want to kick in the bollocks. But when they've been been defiled of all this frippery and put into a yellow shirt, they look like an innocent new born. We want them to succeed like they're our children.

We like to believe their strengths are infinite, their weaknesses don’t exist. In recent weeks there has been a big call for Tyrone Marsh to start. Most people had never seen him play at all, and only the 118 that went to Plymouth in the JPT had seen him in the first team. But some simply knew he was the saviour.

The consensus seems to be that Wilder needed to play Marsh; ignoring that our frailties were principally at the back.

Statistically speaking, if you label enough people the saviour, one should turn out to be exactly that. There was palpable excitement that he was picked to start against Southend. Every ball placed in front of him was greeted with near hysteria; “GO ON TY”.

Whether Marsh turns out to be a Beauchamp or a Mark Druce time will tell. But he didn’t look out of his depth, in fact he physcially he looked the part and got himself into good positions, had a decent number of chances and scored a good goal.

It was a refreshing debut in a refreshing game; the crowd was surprisingly sparse; the JPT isn't exactly the most exciting competition, but a semi-final of any competition which ends up at Wembley has got to be worth a punt. We can all debate endlessly the importance of the JPT, but this season has been great. Those who didn't come missed perhaps the best game we've had at the Kassam since Swindon in the, um, JPT.

An unfamiliar sense of control

Despite opticians' insistence otherwise, my eyesight isn't what it used to be. Especially on a Tuesday night when I'm tired. Our new block yellow kit helps me, at least, to make our which team is us but I find it quite difficult to read shirt numbers on players' backs, let alone the names.

So I'm still getting used to our new signings and working out which is which. I can't really tell the difference between Rigg, Cox and Forster-Caskey, although I've worked our that although I know that Michael Raynes  is the tall one at the back.

It may be the relative anonymity of the individuals which did it (well, to me at least) but Tuesday's 2-0 win over Southend showed how the team has evolved over the summer. In our first season back in the Football League we were full of joi d'vivre which although fun came with a lot of naïveté; like watching teenage boys jumping off bridges into a river - thrilling and foolish in equal measure.

Last season we added to this raw talent with some much needed experience, most notably Michael Duberry and Peter Leven. This built on a base of talent including Constable, Wright and Clarke. What resulted was almost an over-compensation on individuals with buckets of experience. With so many captains on the pitch we became, perhaps, over-reliant on their individual performances. As injuries took their toll on these key players the rest of the squad struggled to fill the gap and eventually the wheels fell off our promotion charge.

Perhaps we were lacking a single unifying squad culture that we could rely on when the big names began to fall away. If you like, it's the difference between Real's chaotic individualistic galacticos policy and Barcelona's more singular corporate approach (focussing on systems over individuals). Both can work, but in different ways.

This season's squad is notably  less starry and as a result we appear a much more solid unit as a whole. Greater than the sum of our parts. This seems exactly the environment in which creatives like Alfie Potter thrives - his performance on Tuesday as good as he's had in an Oxford shirt and fully deserving of the standing ovation he got when substituted.

The change is perhaps best illustrated in the back-four. Last year we had Liam Davies and Damian Batt raiding the flanks with Michael Duberry being a dominant personality in the middle. With so much going on Jake Wright seemed prone to occasional, but signifant, mistakes. Was everyone trying to be a bit too hard to be as good as Duberry et al? Playing too close to the rivet, too close to a mistake? Similarly, were our midfield trying to offer a like-for-like replacement to Peter Leven's creative? Is it wrong to think of Dean Smalley as a replacement for James Constable?

It seemed on Tuesday that players were playing their game, and not to a tempo set by others. As a result it was much more settled and patient and, as a result, we were in control throughout. That is not to say that the likes of Duberry and Leven are a detriment to the squad, far from it, we just need to know that we have a squad that can succeed with or without them. From the last week or so, there are encouraging signs that we might have.

Still fighting. Just.

When we first moved to the Kassam, my seat was at the back of the East Stand with the proper fans. Next to me was a bloke who came with his girlfriend. She was the kind I might have fancied at primary school; a pretty tomboy who could play football with me. I fell a little bit in love with her giggle, which was playful and girly. A chink of light in the greyness.

Under Ian Atkins, in 2004, we were on a promotion charge until he and Firoz Kassam worked out that they were too similar to be in the same room together. Graham Rix came in and rather than try to steer our listing ship to shore he decided, with 8 games to go, that a revolution was needed. We capitulated spectacularly. Having failed to win in the previous six games, we faced Cambridge United. It was 8 years ago to this very weekend, we needed a win to maintain a feint hope of the play-offs. A must win game for a team being strangled by it's lack of momentum. Sounds familiar?

Statistically speaking; the weather was typical of the time of year; grey and cold, not the late spring sun that is supposed to symbolise the final games of the season. We laboured throughout, burdened by an inappropriate playing philosophy and our own expectations. Cambridge scored 15 minutes from time, but we hit back two minutes later. This burst of excitement failed to ignite the Exocet required to fire us into the play-offs. The game continued to peter out as Cambridge defended what they had and we lacked the creativity to break them down.

Then, from nothing Jefferson Louis rattled one in. The gloom lifted, it was back on; me and the bloke next to me glanced towards each other and our eyes met. We'd barely talked in two years, but for that moment, it seemed appropriate to hug. Perhaps it was on. If we could sneak the play-offs then anything could happen. I could hear his girlfriend squealing with excitement on the other side of him. If we could fudge promotion, then we could regroup in the summer as the fully re-modelled Rix vision of the Ajax of middle class England. Perhaps things were going to turn out alright in the end.

They equalised 60 seconds later. Me and the bloke next to me were barely out of each others' arms when everyone fell silent. The gloom descended, the game petered out and the play-offs were beyond us. This was real; no fantasy, no spirit.

The season ground to dust; when we returned the following August, the girl reappeared with poorly died hair, a broken leg and what I can only describe as the blank sunken eyes of a heroin addict. Occassionally she laughed in her light and playful way. But not as often and with little life.

This season seems to be heading the same way; as much as we fight it, we look set to fall short. No end of positive social media marketing can change the direction we're travelling in. The fans tried to turn out in large numbers, but didn't quite make it, we tried to be frenziedly excited, but it was too cold, the players tried to reverse the momentum of recent weeks, but it was just too much.

Our goalkeeping situation appropriately sums up our season; at our strongest we look a division above, when adversity hits, we still seem to have the resiliance to battle on. But this year, throughout the year, fate decided to exact another, heavier, blow. Whatever caused Ripley to flap so hopelessly at their first goal was probably just the winds of inevitability blowing the ball into the net.

I maintain that it is circumstance, not incompetence that has got us into this position. We have improved on last year, and been a victim of a relentless procession of injuries to key people at key times. The belief that we should have a couple of spare 20 goals a year strikers and a ready made replacement for the likes of Leven is not reasonable. We'd be able to carry someone like Dean Morgan if the 7 or 8 key players we'd lost to injury had been fit. Another season offers, as always, the opportunity to refine further; cleanse a little, repair damaged bones, but continue to move forward. I still expect us to do so.

We go to Port Vale in hope, but not expectation but in some ways it is a blessed relief that the likely end is near. I'm tired of fighting the tidal wave of inevitability. If the miracle happens, then perhaps it'll spark us back into life, but I doubt it.

Wilder in. *raises weary fist of defiance*